Ghost of a Chance
by Papel e Tinta
Summary: Katie Deyling, once a waitress, now flying off to Paris to audition for "Phantom of the Opera". It has been twenty years since the famed musical has been on stage. Ron Chandler, holder of the musical's rights, it set on reintroducing the tragic story with the help of his 'friend' known only as Erik. Katie must prove herself a 'Christine' to Erik, the other competitors, and herself.
1. Failing Chances

((**Hello everyone! First chapter of 'Ghost of Chance'! Hope you enjoy and please review and let my know what you think!))**

Ron Chandler was sitting in a booth placed near one of the diner windows so he could see out onto the dark street. Rain was falling in sheets, coating the pavement in a river that was constantly being disrupted by a taxi or a pedestrian. Even though he was in the diner, he shivered under his thick coat. Matters were grave, making even the warm air turn icy. Any other night he might have been in bed at this late hour, sound asleep in his pent house. But everything was going wrong. Sighing, he picked up the mug in front of him, sipping down some of the hot coffee.

A beep came from his phone and he jumped, reaching down into his pocket. He shouldn't have been surprised. He was getting calls from agents nearly every ten minutes, as well as the back drop builders, lawyers, chorus contractors and choreographers. Not to mention the board, who were hassling him on the budget.

It had been nearly twenty years since the economy had started back up. The second depression, which has seemingly spread around the entire globe, had left its mark. No one could go see plays, let alone an expensive musical. Rebirthing one of the most successful musicals the world had ever seen was not an easy job. And with its initial creator passing away, everyone had given up hope on "Phantom of the Opera". Ron didn't like to think about Webber, as if just thinking about him would conjure up his ghost to torture him on his initial struggle with the musical. But as he looked down at his phone with the caller ID flashing across the screen, he realized that Webber's ghost was not the one he would have to deal with.

"Erik." Ron said after sliding his thumb over the screen and pressing it to his ear. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked, tone sour and not at all considering the phone call to be a pleasure.

"You don't look at all well Monsieur Chandler." Erik's voice masked by the background noise on the phone make the hairs on Ron's neck stand straight at attention. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he peered outside the window. He hated how Erik always seemed to be able to see him. As if he didn't have enough to deal with.

"Well, under the circumstances I don't really expect to be looking my best." He said, actually sitting up to scan the scene outside.

"Have you received a time frame?" Erik asked. Ron's fingers clenched around the phone's frame, making a plastic creaking noise. The rebirthing of the musical "Phantom of the Opera" was so far a failure. Investors and patrons were threatening to pull out, and Ron had basically begged for time. Webber had left the rights to him, and he felt like it was his duty. But with the depression still in the memories of everyone in the world, finding the spirit was harder than anyone had expected. And that made finding the right voices even harder.

"We have two years." He said; face falling into his open hand.

"I honestly do not see the problem Monsieur Chandler," Erik said in something bored drawl. "I have written multiple operas in a smaller time frame."

"Then why aren't you helping?!" Ron yelled, slamming his hand on the table top in anger. The passing waitress jumped, putting a hand on her curved hip and glaring at Ron. Turning his face away he ran a hand through his hair. "Two years to get everything together in the state of this economy, finding sets, finding an orchestra, finding the goddamn voices for this production is not _easy_." He snapped, whispering this time.

"Do you honestly believe I do not know that Monsieur Chandler," Erik said, voice as cold as the rain outside. Ron closed his eyes, trying to control his temper.

"Then help. Sing. Or at least help me find the right voices to do it all justice." He said, not admitting to himself that he was practically begging him.

"Justice? As if anyone could do my story justice," Erik spat. Clenching his fist, Ron was seconds away from hanging up if he hadn't turned his head and spotted a figure standing out in the rain that had most definitely not been there before. Sitting up straighter, Ron swallowed. "I have however, considered your offer and am inclined to accepting." Erik's voice said. The figure removed his hand from his ear and hung up. Ron hung up as well, eyes following Erik as he walked across the flooded street and into the diner.

It had taken a while to integrate the idea of phones, technology and modern fashion into the Phantom's head, but Ron had no choice. It was not like he could let him run around in a cape and suit. The mask however, was unavoidable. At least he had a scarf to cover his nose and mouth and a black hat to hide the questionable white accessory. Erik, in his black waterlogged trench coat, entered the diner, a bell ringing as the door swung open. The blonde waitress skipped over, overly cheery for someone who was working so late a shift.

"Hello sir may I take your coat and lead you to a seat?" she asked with a grin. Erik however fully ignored her, pushed past her and headed over to Ron's booth. Obviously irritated, the girl flipped her hair and flounced away into the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked, leaning back in his seat as if to get as far away from Erik as possible. Erik sat himself neatly in his seat, cold grey eyes boring into Ron's blue ones.

"To talk over my part of course." He said. "And my conditions."

"Your conditions?" Ron hissed, grabbing the edge of the table. "Erik, the fact that I am allowing you to be in this production, which by the way is the debut of my producing career, is condition enough!" Erik removed his gloves, throwing them down on the table before inter lacing his fingers and looking skeptically at Ron.

"I wish to be in charge of who plays Christine Daae." He said. Ron tensed at this.

"Why on earth should I let you do that?" he spat. Erik's eyes seemed to be on fire at this.

"Because I have a right to it. If you are so damned insistent on a rebirth of this accursed story than you will want the best. And who can be a better judge than me, I, who raised her voice to its panicle of talent? I taught her, I nurtured her-"

"You loved her." Ron cut in. Erik did not move, hardly reacting to this obvious statement.

"I…have a right to her." He said slowly. Ron breathed in, leaning in a little to look bravely into the Phantom's eyes.

"I may be bringing back your story Erik…but I am not bring back Christine. No matter what girl you think is good enough for the part, she won't be her. She's dead. They are all dead. And these people are only playing pretend." Erik glared in response.

"As if I will actually find someone to match her voice." He said, voice cutting through Ron with the purpose of killing vocally. "Do not fool yourself Monsieur Chandler that I am so sensitive and naive as if to believe this is some 'second chance', or that I will find a Christine. I consider this my own personal Hell. To relive my story over and over again until it finally dies out and everyone forgets."

"But why?" Ron asked, "Why would you take up the role in your own story?" Erik leaned back, looking out the window at the falling rain.

"What else am I to do? I have no inspiration or energy to compose or to enjoy music any longer. It is not as if I can kill for pleasure, you of all people should know that." He said, cat like eyes flashing at Ron. "My…ghostly situation is unique. I may as well accept my fate and move along with it. There was never a place in heaven for a 'man' like me." He said, gaze returning again to the window. Ron remained silent at this, his chest giving a twang of guilt. He couldn't believe that he felt any pity for this monster. The first time they had met, Erik had tried to kill him, rope around neck in his most classic choice. But by some heavenly blessing, or in Erik's case curse, the rope had passed through him. That was only the beginning of their story. Sighing and once again running a hand through his golden hair, he contemplated for a few minutes. Erik remained silent, allowing him to think without interruption.

"Alright. Alright," he said in defeat. "You may help with casting Christine. But I have a say on it as well." He said in a parental tone. Erik nodded his head, giving him something of a smirk.

"I hardly doubt that once you hear a voice that I have picked, you will have any disputes." He said. The blonde waitress came out of the kitchen, plates in hand. Walking over she placed one in front of Ron while shooting Erik a glare.

"Your omelet sir," she said. "The best in New York!" She added a smile before walking over to the counters and starting on wiping them down.

"New York," Erik muttered, watching as Ron delved into his food. "Your city is crowded and tasteless. How do you expect to find any talent here?" he asked. Ron swallowed, Erik's bad mood not enough to spoil his favorite comfort food.

"I don't intend to. Auditions are to be held in Paris. If we ever do make this two year time limit, I hope to have the grand re-opening at the Opera House." Erik seemed to perk up at this.

"I must admit that is an excellent choice," he said, pride flowing though his veins. "I shall enjoy returning to France. Your language here is so guttural. French is a language that I would enjoy hearing again." He said thoughtfully.

"And hopefully," Ron continued, not really paying attention to Erik's comments, "we will find our Christine."

"What did you say?"

Both men turned to see the waitress standing at the head of their table, cloth in hand with a sparkle in her eyes. Ron instantly recognized the look and held up both his hands.

"Listen miss-"he peered at her name tag, "Miss Geni, but I don't take auditions just on a whim." 'Miss Geni' as she had called her (her first name was Meagan) threw back her head and laughed.

"Audition? Me? No!" she said laughing, placing a hand on her hip carelessly. Erik ignored her, nonchalantly taking Ron's cup of coffee for himself. "I want to suggest someone!" she said, excitement in her voice.

"I highly doubt you could submit anyone with any real talent." Erik said coldly, still looking out the window, his mind somewhere else, refusing to apply any manners to the waitress. Meagan glared at him with hatred.

"She had loads of talent!" she snapped, twisting the cloth in her hand, trying to resist giving the man a hard whip with it. "We grew up hearing about how amazing Phantom of the Opera was and she had always hoped that it would come back just so she could audition!" Ron turned red at this. He didn't want news about his attempts at bringing back the musical to leak out just yet. Not with the way it was going at this point.

"We can't just pick girls up off the street for auditions," he said, standing with only half of his omelet eaten. "Thank you for the food but-"

"If you don't listen to her, I'll tell everyone about your little project." She suddenly said. She had heard most of the conversation, at least the part about the rebirth of the musical, and had read Ron's expression perfectly. He didn't want anyone to know. Erik turned his head, raising an eye brow that the waitress.

"Ah, threats. The only way to get what you really want," he said calmly, chuckling into his mug. He didn't like the waitress, but he didn't like Ron either. So to watch it unfold was pure entertainment. Ron was now a dangerous purple color. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was stuck. Sitting back down, he began stabbing at the omelet with his fork.

"Fine. Where is this girl?" he snapped, hating the feeling of being trapped in a situation. Meagan squealed, making both men flinch with irritation.

"She'll be here in a few minutes! She has the night shift!" she said, looking at her watch to see that it was almost midnight. "You won't regret this!" she said, taking Ron's hand and shaking it violently. Turning away without bothering an attempt at shaking Erik's hand, she ran into the kitchen, leaving both of them feeling like they _would_ regret this.


	2. Given Chances

Katie shouldered the back door of the diner open, dark circles under her eyes. She hated the night shift, but in times like these she would take anything. Shrugging her bag further up onto her shoulder she walked over to the lockers, more like cubbies, and pulled her jacket off. Throwing her bag to the floor as well, she tied her apron around her neck, the bob of chocolate curls ticking her fingers. The idea of long hair seemed romantic and thrilling to her but every time she tried, the curly creatures rebelled, rising higher above her shoulders. So she settled for a classy 20's bob.

"Katie!"

Katie let out a small yell as Meagan burst through the double doors, having run through the kitchen and into the back room at hearing her arrival. "Meagan! Don't do that!" she said, clutching her chest but laughing at the same time. It was way too late and she was on an emotional rollercoaster do to the late hour. She wondered how Meagan had so much energy. Meagan grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the door.

"You have to come to the front!" she squealed, stepping all over Katie's feet. Groaning, she fought against her insistent friend.

"Just give me a moment!" she said, pulling her arm out of Meagan's death grip. Meagan danced impatiently as she sat down and pulled off her sneakers to replace them with some worn out black flats.

"Now?" she whined. Katie gave her an exasperated look. Either there was a huge mess in the front or a cute boy. Both of which Katie didn't want to deal with at midnight.

"You don't need to be so excited about leaving," she said, standing and following Meagan out into the kitchen. "Unlike you I have six hours of work to look forward to. And Bill needs me at the restaurant early today because Parker is sick again." Meagan wasn't listening, she was poking and prodding her to move faster, making Katie move purposely slower.

"Just hurry up! The suspense is killing me!"

Katie stopped right in front of the doors leading out to the front of the diner. Turning to face Meagan, she gave her 'the look'. It was the look she gave anyone who was obviously up to something. It encompassed everything from 'do I need to call the police' to 'did you think before you acted'? "I'm not going out there until to tell me what's going on." She said, folding her arms in an attempt to seem stern, but her eyes were pleading. Meagan clapped her hands, her hair bouncing around in equal excitement.

"Look who's out there! Just take a peek!"

Katie sighed and stood on her tip toes to look out the round window to see two men in one of the booths. She instantly recognized the one with the handsome face and blonde hair. She shot back down, doubled over, face red.

"Oh my God!" she whispered, hand clamped over her mouth. Meagan laughed, jumping up and down.

"I know!" she squealed. Katie looked up at her, eyes wide.

"Is that Ron Chandler?" she whispered as if they could hear them.

"Yes!" Meagan screamed.

"What is he doing here?" she asked, not able to stop herself from taking another look.

"Late night snack? Who knows! But you won't believe what they are talking about!" she said, spinning around and giving Katie a huge grin. Katie tilted her head, looking at her friend pleadingly. Meagan had something of a habit when it came to listening to costumer's conversations. But this time, Katie couldn't help what want to know what they were saying. "He's reopening Phantom of the Opera!" she yelled. Katie froze mouth open.

She had only ever heard about the musical. Her own mother had seen Michael Crawford as the Phantom three times in a row. Her heart started pounding with excitement and she wrung her hands together, dreams filling her head. She had always wanted to be on stage, to act, to sing, to tell an audience a story, but when the world hit an all time low, all those dreams faded away. And yet she couldn't stop herself from moving to New York, earning a job as a waitress and waiting for the world to perk up and tell her that it was time! Was it time now?

"They want to see you!" Meagan said. This comment shook Katie from her stunned state.

"What?" she hissed, cowering in fear. "Why?"

"They are trying to find a Christine!" she said; hand on the door, ready to open it at any moment. Katie suddenly realized what Meagan had done.

"Meagan! You didn't!" she squeaked, inching away from the door.

"Katie! Come on! You came here to be an actress! And a producer is sitting right in front of you!"

"Who's the other guy?" she asked nervously. Meagan's expression turned from excited to disgust.

"A friend of Chandler's I guess. The guy's an ass. Total jerk. But he's not important!" she said, grabbing Katie wrist. By the death grip she was in, Katie could tell there was no way Meagan was letting go until she was standing in front of Ron Chandler himself.

"Wait Meagan! No! I'm not ready-!" But it was too late. Meagan had kicked open the door and marched towards the booth, dragging Katie behind her. She could have sworn that her heart had stopped completely. Face white as a sheet, she found herself standing next to Meagan in front of the two men. Her mind told her to run like hell, but Meagan still had a firm grip on her.

"May I introduce Katherine Deyling!" Meagan said, flipping her hand in Katie's direction as if it was a grand reveal and not a forced audition in a rundown diner. Ron looked at Meagan with a scowl then turned to look at Katie. His expression changed to one of surprise. Katie could feel her face turning red and she tried to swallow a pitiful squeak of fear. The other man did not turn his head from the window.

"Katherine," Ron said, standing and reaching for her hand. She gave it and they shook.

"Most people call me…Katie." She said, thanking God that she didn't stutter out of sheer fear. Ron smiled, his pearly white teeth shinning, conquering a smile from Katie who hated meeting new people.

"Katie. Would you like to join us?" he asked.

"Uh," she looked at Meagan as if to ask 'what do I do'. Meagan gave her an encouraging smile and pushed her towards the seat across Ron next to his friend. "Sure. Yes, thank you." She said, nervously sitting down next to the other man. Ron, who had not been at all excited about this little 'audition', seeing as it was a result of blackmail, had changed completely in his attitude. Perhaps it because Katie was stunning even in her waitress uniform or because Erik looked so utterly irritated. Meagan smiled at the group and clapped her hands.

"I'll just be off back to the kitchen," she said in a singsong voice. Katie looked at her with a terrified expression, but Meagan skipped back into the back, only to peek every now and then through the windows to see how it was going.

Katie looked back at Ron; her hands pressed in her lap from fright. Ron pressed his hands together, looking at her curiously from across the table. There was no sound except for the rain pounding outside. Katie's hair was still wet from running to the diner through the darn rain, something that she was trying not to think about.

"How old are you Katie?" Ron suddenly asked. Jumping a little she felt stupid as she tried to remember.

"Nineteen," she replied quickly, heart racing around in her chest.

"Nineteen. And you are living in New York by yourself?" She nodded her head. Erik tried to ignore their conversation, tapping his fingers against the table to Bach's Symphony in D minor to drown out their voices. "Meagan mentioned that you have been looking forward to the Phantom's reappearance." Ron said, smirking a little at Erik who glared at his reflection in the window.

"My mother talked about it a lot. She saw it a few times before the depression." She said, feeling a little more comfortable.

"How long have you been singing?" he asked next, finding himself unable to stop smiling at her. She blushed, smiling as well, looking down at her hands.

"For a couple of years. Since High School I think." She said.

Erik scoffed, earning a glare from Ron and an offended blush from Katie.

"That's good to hear." Ron said, giving her an apologetic smile. Katie once again felt the need to run but remained glued to her seat. "And do you have anything to say on how you might interpret Christine if you were her?" At this question, Erik rounded on the two, irritation and fury claiming his expression.

"Enough with these questions." He snapped, shooting a hated glance at Katie. "Monsieur Chandler, you are interviewing her as if she had a chance!" he said, his anger filling the booth like a black fog. "She is a waitress working in one of the most hideous cities I have ever seen! Every girl in this god forsaken place wants to be on stage and none of them possess any more talent than a virgin does as a whore! Do not sit here and insult me by playing with the idea that this, this _girl_ could possible play the part of Christine Daae. Experience? She has none! Talent? I highly doubt it or she wouldn't be working here! And as for personality, I daresay she has said nothing memorable and she herself is not memorable at all! I already have completely forgotten her presence!"

Katie starred horrified at this outburst, each of his words striking her in the chest like a knife. How could anyone be so horrible? Tears welled in her eyes and her shoulders started shaking. Erik shot her a look of irritation and stood, straightening his collar and pushing past her out of the booth.

"I will see you in Paris Monsieur Chandler. No sooner than that. _That_ is where we will find Christine." And with that, he left the diner, vanishing into the night. It wasn't until he had left that Katie broke out into sobs, hating herself for it. Ron had not expected Erik to do such a thing. Sure, he had not experienced human interaction with anyone besides himself for who knows how long, but that was no reason to attack the girl.

He reached across and nervously placed his hand on top of Katie's, which was clenched in a fist as she suffered from a wave of harsh tears. He waited for her to calm down before beginning the most sincere apology he could give.

"I am so sorry Katie," he said, really meaning it, which meant something. "He had no right to say those things to you."

"But he's right," she said, removing her hand from Ron's to wipe away the salty tears, sniffing. "I can't believe I even thought- I have no experience and you probably are used to getting agents and stuff but I'm just a waitress-" At this, Ron sat up straighter, eyes growing cold.

"Stop."

Katie blinked, his harsh tone turning off the faucet that controlled her tears. "What?" she said weakly.

"I said stop." He repeated. Katie sat there, having done what he said, remaining silent, no longer crying.

"I know that Erik was harsh, much harsher than most actually. But I think he wanted to prove something." Ron said, crossing his arms. He looked disappointed. Katie was so confused. She began opening her mouth to talk but Ron held up a hand to stop her. "Actresses, especially ones as young and inexperienced as you, hear criticisms all the time. It's a part of the business. But you don't want to give into the negatives you are told you have. You want to learn from them. Erik said you had no experience. Then get some. He said that you couldn't get anywhere in New York, where every other girl is hunting the same dream. Then leave New York."

Katie just stared at him. It was like a language professor was decoding last night's homework, and it was now all making sense. Sort of. Ron continued.

"You didn't really hear what he was really trying to say. Instead you burst into tears and downgraded yourself. Anyone who wants to be in this production can't do that." Katie bowed her head, her face practically glowing red. She had made a mockery of herself. "I'm not saying that Erik was right to say the things he did, in fact he's a bastard." Ron said, lips twitching into a small smile in order to make Katie look up. "But he's a bastard who also happens to be a genius."

There was a long amount of time where they sat there, silent. Katie thought over what Ron and Erik had said. Looking up, she inhaled to calm herself down completely. Ron could see she was trying and smiled.

"There we go. You are already learning." He said, leaning back in his seat more comfortably now that he had gotten over the more intense part of the conversation. Katie played with the hem of her apron under the table, her nerves eating away at her.

"Would it be too much to ask you not to tell your friend how I reacted?" she said quietly. Ron threw back his head and laughed, making Katie even more embarrassed until he looked at her again and offered some explanation.

"Erik and I are not 'friends'. Not even close," he said, still chuckling darkly. Katie tilted her head.

"Then what are you?" she asked. Ron's smile vanished and he looked into the girl's stormy blue eyes. He couldn't explain it, but something about her kept him from dismissing this as a forced audition. He felt genuinely drawn to her. He wasn't sure if she could sing, but he felt like she had some talent that she had yet to tap into. He sighed, paying with his fork.

"Co-workers." He said after a long pause.

"Is he in charge of the production to?" Katie asked. Ron looked at her for a long while. He didn't want to admit that he was. She knew too much about his project already. Erik wasn't another thing she could be let in on. Ignoring the question, he pulled a business card out of his pocket as well as a pen. Flipping it over, he started scribbling something down. Katie used her hands to push herself higher up to try and see what he was writing.

"This," he said, finishing and holding it up, "Is my card. You can reach me at this number at anytime. And this," he flipped the card over, "Is the date, time, and location where we will begin auditions and working on the production." Katie heart did a flip flop as she took the card from his hand to stare down at the address. She looked up, eyes wide.

"Paris, France?" she asked. Ron nodded.

"I fly out tomorrow to get everything ready." He said. "There will be a hotel where we will have all the 'contestant' stay as well as the crew, paid for by my company. The process is going to be…well, a little different considering the circumstances."

Katie looked back down at the card, fingering the sides nervously. A ticket to Paris would cost a lot. All her savings would go into a one way ticket. One way there, and no way home. Ron couldn't stand the silence any longer and leaned forward to catch her eye.

"I'm not promising anything Katie," he said gently. "But if you don't get out of here now, you won't get anywhere. And hey, if you don't make it, we always need chorus members," he said with a wink. Katie turned pink and leaned in as well, eyes questioning. Ron had never seen such eyes. They were like a storm, raging and moving and holding back a force like no one had ever seen. He drowned in them, but what unnerved him more was how she seemed completely oblivious to what she was capable of.

"Why?" she whispered, eye brows knitting together. Ron was lost for words, then quickly pulled back to break the spell.

"Why?" he repeated, forcing a laugh. "Maybe it's because you've got something that I think I can put to use! Or maybe it's because I want to annoy Erik by taking you on. Or maybe it's because if I don't, that friend of yours will blab about this entire thing and blow my cover." Katie's head turned abruptly to glare at Meagan, who squeaked and disappeared from the kitchen door window. Ron stood, making Katie's attention return back to him.

"I hope I see you again Katie." He said, tossing a few dollars onto the table. He nodded his head and walked past her, looking back at her before opening the door and walking out into the rain.


	3. Paris Chance

Katie had woken up the next day at around eight, having finished her shift at six, wondering if it was all a dream. Had Ron Chandler really offered to make all her dreams come true? Was he really bringing back 'Phantom of the Opera'? With only an hour of sleep to run on like most other mornings, she got up to go to work at the other restaurant she worked at during the day. It was normal for her to run on so little sleep. It was definitely not the healthiest choice, dangerous even, but money was money and a job was a job.

All through the day while waiting tables, taking orders, dealing with irritated and rude costumers, her mind was somewhere else. The date Ron had given her was only a few weeks away. How could she make such a hard decision in only a few short weeks? Doing the math in her head, she found that she already had enough for a ticket for Paris and some left over to keep herself alive for a few months in France.

_What am I thinking?_ She thought, grabbing two plates from the counter and walking towards their awaiting table. _Me? Go to Paris? I'll die! As if finding a job here wasn't hard enough! I can't, I just can't…_

It was then that Erik's voice, his harsh words and his intense glare appeared in her mind. She gripped the plate's harder, anger filling her as she remembered him down grading her. She didn't care if he had been 'giving her advice'. He was awful. She couldn't see how someone as nice as Ron Chandler could work with him. But then again, he had laughed at the idea of them being friends. Katie replayed what Erik had said in her mind. Slamming the plates down at their table, the family jumped in fear.

Katie blinked, realizing she had nearly broken a handful of plates in front of their perspective orderers. Blinking, she forced an apologetic smile.

"So sorry," she said, turning red and quickly rushing away. She had had a revelation, causing her to smash the plates down in fury and horror.

Erik had challenged her. Ron had said he was telling her to get some experience, to leave New York. If she didn't go to Paris, if she didn't show, he would have won. Stomping back to the kitchen, Katie could feel her blood pumping angrily through her veins. He had mocked her, embarrassed her, and if she let him get away with that then she would never be able to live with herself.

Katie wasn't competitive by nature. She hardly ever got angry and she was shy when it came to new people. So the raw emotion she was feeling had overwhelmed her, making her take her lunch break early to go sit in a bathroom stall and mull things over. Pulling her curls out of their pony tail, she let them rest around her shoulders. Lifting her feet so no one could see she was in the stall, she hugged her knees and closed her eyes.

She had only ever heard about the Phantom's story. Tragic, beautiful, heartbreaking, it was all Katie ever thought about when she wondered what it must have been like before the Second Great Depression, when the world was at its peak and musicals were appearing in theaters every day. Acting wasn't a job that a lot of people could take up now. Even thought the economy was slowly returning to a sable state, entertainment was one of the world's last priorities.

_When will I ever get this chance again?_ She thought. _It would take twenty more years for the world to get back to where it was. Am I really willing to wait until it's too late?_ She sat there until her ten minutes were up and wiped away the tears she had found were sliding down her face. Standing up and returned to her work, it was then that she subconsciously chose to go to Paris.

Weeks passed and Katie continued with her life as if that night in the diner had never happened. It was a day before the date that she found herself sitting in her little apartment at a desk, counting out her money. It was enough for a ticket. It all happened in scenes to Katie. She was now at the library on one of the public computers, buying her ticket. Then at a payphone, telling Meagan she was leaving, then leaving her letter of resignation at both the restaurant and the diner. Then she was back at her apartment, packing everything she owned into a broken suitcase. Lastly, she was in bed, staring at her clock. It was then that she registered what she had done.

"No turning back," she whispered. She had nearly twelve hours until she had to leave for the air port. Rolling onto her back, she starred up at her ceiling, clutching the thin sheets. She couldn't sleep. Maybe it was because she was nervous, or maybe because she was normally still working at the restaurant at this time. She wondered if Ron would be happy to see her, or surprised. Trying not to think about Erik's reaction, she rolled over and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come to her.

And that was how she found herself sitting outside her gate, where the speakers announced the plane heading to Paris France had arrived. Everyone stood, collecting her bags. Katie copied their movements, clutching her bag in fear. She had never flown in a plane before and now she was having second thoughts. But the throng of passengers pushed her towards the gate and she handed her ticket to the woman who smiled and waved her through the door.

The past few weeks had happened so quickly, but now that she was actually heading off to Pairs, it slowed down to regular speed. It took years to walk down the hall, months to find her seat, and days to actually settle herself in, or so it seemed. She looked around at all the other passengers who were putting their bags away, all looking as equally tied as her. They all seemed to be business people. No one flew for pleasure anymore. No one could afford to.

Returning back to her seated position, having been looking over her shoulder, she played with her worn jacket trying to pass the time until take off. A few men in suits took the seats next to her, making her press up against the window nervously. Surrounded by strangers, all by herself, on her way to a place she couldn't come back from and now seated next to a pair of intimidating men. As if the day couldn't get any more terrifying.

But as it turned out, it could. The plane started moving and Katie clenched her arm rests, but quickly settled down. It wasn't moving that fast after all. After minute or two she was smiling. There was nothing wrong with flying so far. She hadn't taken into consideration that they were not even technically flying yet. They reached the run way and Katie was growing more confident up until the engines roared and the plane, moving faster and faster and faster was shooting down the run way, shaking and making Katie turn white. She didn't want to scream, so she let her eyes grow as wide as they wanted in fear as the plane lifted off the ground and took flight.

Everyone around her seemed calm, but Katie was praying to herself_. I don't want to die. Just get me to Paris and off this thing._ Sadly, she knew she had a long flight ahead of her. It took at least an hour for Katie to convince herself that she was safe and that the plane was not about to fall out of the sky. Leaning back in her seat, she attempted to close her eyes and fall into an uneasy sleep.

A disturbing dream followed this, making her face contort into an expression of pain and fear. She was alone in a dark place with no light. She couldn't move from her spot because broken plates like the ones they had at the diner littered the floor. Barefooted and dressed in what seemed to be a leotard, she stood there hopelessly, her breath rising in front of her in a misty chill. Music started playing around her, loud and painful to the ears. Clamping her hands over her ears she fell to her knees, the loud music making her bones shake in her body.

It suddenly stopped and Katie had the feeling that someone was coming to kill her. There was no sound, just the horrible feeling that something was coming. She started crawling over her broken glass, cutting her hands, feet and knees. Panting, she found that she was moving as slow as a turtle and that whatever was heading out to kill her was right behind her. Turning her head, she saw a black figure with a white face, tall and thin, lean down and tie a rope around her neck.

She didn't scream something that Katie had never been able to do in her dreams, and the figure lifted her by the neck up to his face. It grinned, a long line of sharp teeth stretching out in front of her, opening its mouth to speak.

_There you are Katie._

Katie jerked away, covered in a cold sweat, clutching her chest as if that would calm her frantic heartbeat. They were still in the sky, crawling along lazily through a sea of grey clouds. Breathing heavily, she leaned back in her seat, trying to convince herself that it was all a dream. The men next to her didn't seem to react at all. Settling back into her seat, she gripped the arm rests and looked out the window, trying to shoo away the feeling that was creeping over her.

Time trudged along slowly, but what seemed like a million hours later, the pilot announced that they were arriving in Paris France. Katie jumped and practically slammed her face against the window to see the city bellow. It was dark, sometime in the middle of the night, but the lights of Paris seemed to defy the time and light up like grounded stars. Katie's breath fogged up the glass, her eyes shining. She didn't know what was waiting for her down below, but she was excited for the first time since the beginning of the trip.

The plane eventually touched down and everyone unbuckled their seatbelts, standing and pulling out their luggage. Katie rose to her feet and bounced on her heels until she was able to squeeze out of the plane. The airport was busy, even though it was the middle of the night. Katie knew that everyone called New York the city that never slept, but so far, Paris seemed more alive than anywhere she had ever been. Reading the English located below the French on the signs, she eventually found her way to the baggage pick up area.

People were talking, laughing, their beautiful language over whelming Katie as she headed towards the conveyor belt that had her flight number. She wondered if she would need to learn any French and suddenly felt like a tourist. Squinting and trying to find her bag, which was nowhere to be seen, she ran right into someone. In all fairness, her flight had been long, jet lag was in effect and Katie had no idea what she was doing.

So she had not expected the woman, who was extremely tall with long, thick auburn hair that was forcefully curled to turn on her with angry eyes. "Watch where you are going!" she snapped. Katie blinked, backing away.

"I'm so sorry, I-"But the woman, who looked around Katie's age despite the elaborate make up and elegant dress, placed a hand on her shoulder. Her lips, painted red, were curled into a smile.

"Oh, no harm done," she said, smiling gently. Katie blinked, mouth open a little. This woman had gone from furious to timidly polite in two seconds flat. It threw her opinion of her way off.

"I didn't mean to. I just got off my flight so-"

"Oh I completely understand!" she said, placing a hand on her chest and laughing, "I just arrived from California!" Katie blinked at this. California was known as being the only hotpot for a good life in the US ironically. "I'm Carly." She said, lowering her lashes and conjuring a blush. Katie backed away again. Something about her seemed so repulsively fake is made Katie's stomach churn.

"Katie." She said, unsure how to proceed.

"Are you looking for your bag?" she asked, looking over at the conveyer belt. Katie nodded her head, clutching her carryon. "Pierre?" Carly called. A tall man with a sharply cut black beard and equally groomed black hair walked over. He was carrying a few large, glossy black bags which Katie assumed was Carly's. "Could you help my new friend?" she asked shyly, avoiding the man's eyes.

Pierre looked confused, looking from Carly's strange behavior to Katie's blank face. Making some kind of connection, he threw back his head and laughed. "Still method acting are we?" he said, winking at Carly, who once again turned pink. "I never doubted your commitment once. You'll make 'em drop dead with your talent!"

Katie blinked. Carly was an actress! Her strange behavior from before made a little more sense now. She had slipped from character. Katie had only ever heard of method acting, that it was when an actor lived in their role, and that it was very hard. Katie suddenly felt like a child next to Carly, who had turned back to her, eyes lowered, wringing her hands together gracefully. Katie wondered who she was pretending to be.

"It's purple!" Katie called to Pierre, who had walked away to find her bag for her. "Thanks," he said, trying not to sound like a terrified mouse. Carly laughed.

"No problem! What brings you to Paris?" she asked.

"Uh," Katie didn't want to say. Carly seemed leagues ahead of her and something about her made her sick to her stomach. She didn't feel like delving into the rather shaking details of her trip.

"Just visiting," she said, offering up a smile. The real Carly seemed to seep through as her dark eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she vanished and her mask was replaced once again by her character.

"Well, I hope you enjoy France! It truly is a beautiful country." She said, swooning slightly.

"And why are you here?" Katie asked. Carly froze, eyes widening a little before she blushed, turning her head away from Katie to turn pink again, and looking shy, secretive and bashful.

"Oh, I…I suppose you would say I'm following my dreams," she said, eyes shining. The cheesiness of the line made Katie wrinkle her nose. She didn't know what Carly was really like, but so far, she wasn't getting the best impression from her. Feeling guilty about her ill feelings towards Carly, who had technically been nothing but nice to her, she felt relieved when Pierre arrived with her bag in hand.

"Thanks so much," she said, quickly taking it from him and trying to get away as fast as possible.

"It was nice meeting you!" Carly called after her. Katie looked back over her shoulder to see Carly's hurt and confused expression. Whether or not she was genuinely feeling those emotions or whether she was 'still in character', Katie couldn't help but feel guilty for being so rude. But it was too late now; she was already out the door, in the Paris air.

Taking a moment to breath in the air, she turned her attention to flagging down a cab and heading off to the hotel address that Ron had given to her only weeks before.


End file.
